In Death 27 - Salvation in Death

and my uncle, who is also a doctor, tried to help him. It happened very quickly. In minutes. Three, four, no more than that. So the body was moved, and the scene compromised. I’m sorry.”
    “Tell me what happened.”
    Graciela relayed the events, set the scene as López had.
    “Did you know Flores?”
    “Yes, a little. He married my brother. I mean to say he officiated at the marriage of my brother. Father Flores also gave time to the youth center. I do the same, when I can, so I knew him from there.”
    “Impressions?”
    “Outgoing, interested. He seemed to relate to the street kids. I thought he’d probably been there and done that in his time.”
    “Did he show any interest in any particular kid or kids?”
    “Not that I noticed. But I didn’t run into him there often.”
    “He ever move on you?”
    “Move . . . No.” Graciela seemed shocked, then thoughtful. “No, no moves, no sense he considered it. And I never heard of him breaking that particular vow.”
    “Would you have?”
    “I don’t know, but my family—and there are a lot of them—is very involved in the church and this is our home parish. If he was going to move on someone, odds are the someone would’ve been related or connected to the Ortiz family. And family gossip runs pretty hot and strong. My aunt Rosa housekeeps for the rectory and not much gets by her.”
    “Rosa Ortiz.”
    “O’Donnell.” Graciela smiled. “We diversify. Is it homicide, Lieutenant?”
    “Right now it’s suspicious death. You might talk to family members, get their impressions.”
    “Nobody’s going to be talking about much else for days,” Graciela commented. “I’ll see what I can find out from those who knew him better than I did.”
    “Okay. I’m going to have your great-grandfather released from the scene. You and your cousin should take that detail as soon as we’re clear.”
    “We appreciate that.”
    “Where’s your house?”
    “I’m with the two-two-three, here in East Harlem.”
    “How long on the job?”
    “Almost two years. I thought I wanted to be a lawyer, changed my mind.”
    Probably change it again, Eve thought. She just didn’t see a cop in those sizzling green eyes. “I’m going to get my partner, and we’ll clear the casket. If anything regarding Flores occurs to you, you can reach me at—”
    “Cop Central,” Graciela finished. “I know.”
    As Graciela clicked out on her funeral heels, Eve took one more scan of the crime scene. A lot of death for one small church, she mused. One in the coffin, one at the altar, and the one looking down on both from the really big cross.
    One dies in his sleep after a long life, one dies fast—and the other gets spikes hammered through his hands and feet so they can hang him on a cross of wood.
    God, priest, and the faithful, she thought. To her way of thinking, God got the worst deal of the three.
     
    I can’t decide,” Peabody said as they walked around to the rectory, “if the statues and candles and colored glass are really pretty or really creepy.”
    “Statues are too much like dolls, and dolls are creepy. You keep expecting them to blink. And the ones that smile, like this?” Eve kept her lips tight together as she curved them up. “You know they’ve got teeth in there. Big, sharp, shiny teeth.”
    “I didn’t. But now I’ve got to worry about it.”
    The small, unimposing building that housed the rectory had flowers in a pair of window boxes—and, Eve noted, minimum security. A standard lock, those flower-decked windows open to the spring air, and no palm plate, no security cameras.
    She knocked, then stood on long legs in simple trousers, on feet planted in worn boots. The pale gray blazer she’d shrugged on that morning covered her weapon harness. The frisky May breeze fluttered through her short, brown hair. Like her legs, her eyes were long, a whiskey brown. They didn’t sizzle like Graciela’s—and were all cop.
    The woman who answered had an explosion of dark curls tipped with gold around a pretty face. Her red-rimmed eyes scanned Eve, then Peabody. “I’m sorry, Father López is unable to take visitors today.”
    “Lieutenant Dallas, NYPSD.” Eve drew out her badge. “And Detective Peabody.”
    “Yes, of course. Forgive me. Father said to expect you. Please come in.”
    She stepped back. She wore a red carnation on the lapel of her black mourning suit—and both over a beautifully curved body. “It’s a terrible day for the parish,